Devil in My Arms (6 page)

Hil looked at the lady with interest. “So that was her plan,” he said quietly. “I’d assumed she’d want to simply disappear. I know I would. Her original plan was foolish, of course. Normally it takes years to have a missing person declared dead.”

Alasdair nodded. “Yes, Roger pointed that out immediately. But then Enderby obliged us by producing a body.”

“If she’s discovered, there will be dire consequences for all involved,” Hil warned. “The authorities will want answers.”

“If that ever happens, we plan to tell them that Eleanor was injured, and when she was found she had lost all memory of her life. All she had was an old letter with Harry’s name on it. Fearing for her health and safety we kept her secluded until her memory returned.”

“And why didn’t you inform her husband immediately?” Hil asked.

“Because we didn’t wish to upset the new Mrs. Enderby,” Alasdair said. “And when a body was produced we feared for her safety.”

“A claim of amnesia is highly suspect,” Hil said. “She’ll still be suspected in whatever foul play Enderby has been up to.” He turned to Alasdair and sighed with regret. Clearly he was going to have to get involved. “You do realize, don’t you, that this is a terrible plan? She cannot take a prominent place in society under an assumed name and expect not to be unmasked.”

“Yes,” Alasdair said, watching Mrs. Fairchild. “I know. But they won’t be separated again, her and Harry. They’re sisters. They should be together.”

“Well, it’s a good thing the plan is moot.”

“What do you mean?” Alasdair asked with a frown. “It will work. We’ll make it work.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You won’t have to. Roger may be new to the law, but he is well respected and already has connections. Not to mention my own involvement. There is absolutely no way Enderby could take her away again. I can’t imagine he’d even try at this point. To do so would create more issues for him, with a new wife already.”

Alasdair shook his head and looked away from Mrs. Fairchild. “She doesn’t say much, but I think she endured a great deal during that marriage.”

“A lady does not run away as she did without great provocation,” Hil agreed. “And what I learned of Enderby during my investigation indicated he was the sort who would treat his wife cruelly.”

“Thank God it doesn’t appear he was ever violent with her,” Alasdair told him. “She bears no scars that I know of, nor does she seem frail.”

The thought of Enderby laying a finger on his wife in anger made Hil unaccountably furious. “He is lucky he did not.”

Alasdair nodded again. “Yes, he is. Had he, I believe Roger would have called him out.” From his tone, Hil gathered Roger wasn’t the only one.

“And so she has made her first move in the chess game,” Hil mused. “And now we wait to see how Enderby counters. I am glad I returned in time for this.”

“It’s not a farce at Drury Lane, Hil,” Alasdair chastised. “It’s Harry’s sister.
Julianna and I have come to care for her a great deal over the past few months.”

Alasdair misunderstood him. He’d meant he was glad he’d returned to make sure all went well. He didn’t correct Alasdair. “Have you? Then I can do no less.” Hil made a mental note to assign a few of Wiley’s friends to keep an eye on Mrs. Fairchild for the time being, until he figured out what her husband was up to. Their foolish plan was doomed to failure. Enderby would find out about his runaway wife in due time. He smiled benignly at Alasdair without voicing his concerns again and then turned back to Mrs. Fairchild. She was caught unawares, staring at him, and she blushed and turned away. Hil raised his glass to her, though she couldn’t see his tribute. It had been a long time since he’d met anyone who could match wits with him. A woman that clever, ready to sacrifice everything, even her identity, for her freedom and her family, was surely worth getting to know better.

Chapter Four

Hil was finally forced to go in search of Mrs. Fairchild at a garden party. She’d been avoiding him since their encounter at Harry and Roger’s the night she returned from the dead, almost two weeks ago. If the truth were known, she was the only reason he would show up at a garden party in February. It wasn’t that he didn’t care for the hostess, Lady Gaston. She was an amiable woman who didn’t talk too much, and merely expected him to show up at her functions, not be the main attraction. But this party was beyond frivolous. Lady Gaston had filled her ballroom with hothouse flowers and garden statuary, and everyone was sipping bad lemonade as if it were June. Ridiculous. He couldn’t believe he was wasting an entire afternoon here when he had inquiries to make.

On his arrival he had noted with satisfaction the two gentlemen he’d hired to watch over Mrs. Fairchild observing the house from across the street. He’d known she was going to be here because, the other day, when Roger had stopped by to see Hil about one of his cases, he’d mentioned the affair. At first Hil was determined not to come. He already had quite a bit on his plate. Involvement with a married woman on the run hardly seemed prudent at this time, regardless of the nature of that involvement. But, damn it, there was a mystery about her, an aloofness that he knew was hiding the real Eleanor Enderby, née Stanley, now Fairchild, and he was determined to uncover her. He refused to acknowledge that it was her physical appeal that drew him. There was a thrill to his encounters with her that spoke more of sexual desire than an intellectual puzzle, but he had never been ruled by his lust.

Generally he steered clear of married women. More often than not they were more trouble than they were worth. But the clever and unexpectedly attractive Mrs. Fairchild had been occupying his mind lately, and he wished to deepen their acquaintance. Not a love affair, of course. She was hardly the type for it, and definitely not the type of woman he usually bedded. He tended to get involved with ladies who wanted a fast, intense love affair with no promises, since their desires mirrored his own. Not someone whose circumstances made that sort of affair impossible, not to mention her connection to
Roger.

He didn’t do well in relationships. Everyone told him so. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to have some sort of lasting commitment—a companion to share his life with—but he was unable to focus solely on the women with whom he was involved, which irritated them. He was a busy man. While it was true he’d made his fortune when he was young with some fortuitous investments, and earned a yearly income from them far above what most of his acquaintances suspected, he did not sit idle. People sought him out to help with their problems, people who had nowhere else to turn or did not have the means to pay someone else to help them. Was he to say,
No, I’m sorry, but I’m involved with a woman and can’t be bothered to help find your grandmother’s secret love letters to the tsar, or explain how your factory blew up
? It wasn’t reasonable to expect that of him, surely. And his studies into human nature and the science of police work took a great deal of time, as well. Why, just last week he’d been asked to give a lecture at the Royal Society. Was he to turn down that august group because he was shagging someone? It was a damned nuisance, really.

There were days when being a gentleman of means and education grew extraordinarily onerous. If he were an average man, he’d be left alone to pursue his interests without interruption. And he wouldn’t have this damned inconvenient conscience that made him try to rescue damsels in distress.

He was not planning on having an affair with Mrs. Fairchild. She was married. Perhaps in no more than name—which was also questionable, since she was legally dead—but for argument’s sake, she was. And Hil was certain that her ex-husband-by-death had by now heard that his dead wife’s mysterious cousin had appeared in London. Mrs. Enderby, disguised as Mrs. Fairchild, had been enjoying the events of the season for the past two weeks. She had been noted in the papers several times as a guest at fashionable affairs. Enderby had quite a few people on his payroll. At least one of them must have seen those papers. This was going to develop into a messy situation, as he’d predicted, and he should steer well clear of it. His involvement would stop with the guards he had watching Roger’s house, for the safety of all who stayed there.

“Good afternoon, Sir Hilary,” a voice filled with feminine satisfaction said from behind him. “I was unaware you would also be attending Lady Gaston’s garden party
today. That makes four times we have run into one another in the last two weeks, doesn’t it?”

He turned and saw Mrs. Fairchild standing behind him, sipping lemonade and smiling knowingly. He refused to acknowledge her amusement. Instead he decided to answer her with the truth she had demanded two weeks ago. “Indeed it does, Mrs. Fairchild. At the Templetons’, Lord and Lady Cheswick’s dinner party, the Leighton musicale, and now this garden party. I came here today specifically to see you, as a matter of fact, since you avoided conversation with me at those affairs.”

He’d expected to fluster her. Again he underestimated her. “Did you? Do you need my assistance on an inquiry, perhaps?”

At least she wasn’t avoiding him. But she was clearly going to make him state his intentions more bluntly. Revenge, perhaps, for his too forward behavior two weeks ago? By now she ought to have realized he had no trouble circumventing polite conversation. “Not at all. I find myself unaccountably fascinated by you.”

She laughed and it sounded genuine. “Unaccountably? Hardly flattering, sir, but honest, to be sure. Come, walk with me.”

“You spend a great deal of time walking,” he observed. “Drawing rooms, gardens—always when I see you, you are in motion.” Running from him, perhaps? He didn’t care for that notion.

“At my husband’s house, I was rarely allowed the freedom to walk anywhere,” she said without self-pity. “I am making up for a previously sedentary life.”

The unfamiliar burn of anger filled him. Very little truly angered him. He’d seen too much, knew too much. But the idea of anyone forcing the gay, amiable, droll Mrs. Fairchild to sit still when it was clear she was brimming with energy and mischief was enough to make a small tic appear in his left eyelid.
How extraordinary
. “Then we shall walk until you are too exhausted to walk any more.” He held out his arm and she lightly laid her lace-gloved fingers upon it. Her warmth seeped through his jacket.

“What an odd garden party.” She adroitly changed the topic, once again cutting off any questions about her past. “These are hothouse flowers and we are indoors. I have never seen the like.”

“Ladies of Lady Gaston’s station have too much time on their hands and not
enough sense to use it wisely.”

His observation amused her. “Do you always speak so plainly?”

“I try to,” he said, stopping to accept a small nosegay of purple pansies from a footman. He presented them to Mrs. Fairchild with a bow. “It is not always appreciated. But I do find it eliminates most misunderstandings.”

“Hmm,” she said as she sniffed the flowers. “These are prettier than they smell.”

His smile was involuntary. “Most things are.”

“I hope I do not fall into that category,” she said. “I am wearing Harry’s French perfume.” She tucked the nosegay into the velvet sash at her waist. Her dress was obviously meant to resemble some sort of country maid’s attire, with large square pockets on the skirt. That is, if country maids wore fine white muslin embroidered with pink roses and decorated with green-velvet sashes.

“I suspect you do not need perfume to smell sweet,” Hil told her, remembering how she’d smelled at the Templetons’ not long ago.

“Do you need to borrow funds?” she asked suspiciously, eyeing him warily.

“I do not,” he responded, surprised at the question. “Why do you ask?”

“I cannot imagine why else you would shower me with compliments.”

“Telling you that you do not smell bad is hardly showering you with compliments.”

She burst out laughing. “From you it is.”

He honestly did not know what to do with her. She seemed to find him amusing, more than anything else. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had treated his attentions so cavalierly. “Madam, have you no response to the fact I find you fascinating?”

* * *

She really didn’t. Have a response, that is. He overthrew her common sense. She’d been avoiding him, it was true. His admission and her unexpected attraction to him made her uncomfortable. She’d known, of course, from that one scorching look at Harry’s, that he had an interest in her. But fascination was far beyond the scope she had been imagining.
“I am fascinated by your fascination,” she countered, and it was true. Fascinated and fearful. She didn’t like feeling out of control, and that’s what he did to her. She’d thought to take the upper hand today by approaching him first, but as usual, he’d thrown her off balance and taken over.

He blew out a breath that sounded vaguely frustrated. From what she knew about him from their mutual friends, it was out of character and made her feel slightly better. “What does that mean?” he asked impatiently.

“It means I do not understand the basis of your fascination,” she admitted reluctantly. She didn’t want to reveal any weaknesses that he might take advantage of, but she really was perplexed at his attentions.

“You have bested me, madam. Not many can say that.”

“Have I?” she said with undisguised amazement and shock. “I am delighted, more so because I didn’t even know we were playing a game. I have bested you in ignorance. Do I earn more points for that?”

He stopped. When she looked at him in question, he was facing forward, his lips pursed in annoyance. “Oh, dear,” she said, letting go of his arm. “Now I’ve annoyed you. Is that part of the game, too? Have I won again? Perhaps you should tell me the rules.” She could hardly believe her forward behavior. It was as if Mrs. Fairchild was taking over and meek Eleanor Enderby was fading away.

He looked at her then, his brows raised haughtily. “I think not. It would be worse to be bested by you when you had complete knowledge of the game.”

She laughed in relief and began to walk again. After a moment he followed her. “I am not accustomed to playing catch-up,” he said. “And yet I am forever doing so with you.”